Page 32 of Copper

I scowl at the phone. “Why wouldn’t I be safe?”

He ignores the question. “I’m actually glad you called because I need you to open your door.”

“My door?” I ask, moving to my window and parting the blinds just as a car swings onto my street and kills the headlights. “I just called you twenty seconds ago. Is that you pulling into my driveway?”

“I was on my way over as soon as I got done sorting some work stuff and taking my daughters to Cynthia’s mom’s house. Open your door for me.”

I don’t cover myself. Aaron’s seen everything. I head down the stairs in the dark, fumbling for the railing as I walk toward the door in a pair of purple granny panties and a country concert shirt from five years ago. I fling open the door, and he’s on me.

I’m in his arms before I can focus on his face. Normally, I’d push back against him, but I don’t this time. Maybe it was the bad dream, but something tells me he needs just as much comfort right now.

He kicks my door closed and turns the deadbolt on the door before picking me up, pulling my legs around his waist, and slinking to the floor right there on my entryway tile. He grips me tight like I was a girl who was lost in the store and was finally found by her parent, his hand firm at my back.

I have no idea what got into him, but I’m here for it. He’s warm. He’s like a weighted blanket during a thunderstorm. We sit like that in my entryway for minutes, my face buried in his neck as he strokes my hair and my back, whispering words I never thought I’d hear again.

“I love you, Lucy,” he whispers.

I’m safe, and I’m loved. With him, I don’t have to worry about being abused. Aaron would never hurt me the way Beck did. He’s my hero, and he always will be.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

I pull away from his neck and move my forehead to his jaw. The heat of his skin on mine is like coming home from college and your mom having a grilled cheese sandwich ready for you.

Home.

“Sorry for what?” I ask.

“What happened at the club. That wasn’t me. It wasn’t…us. I was angry at you because I don’t understand why you push me away all the time. I wanted to be with you any way that I could be with you. I lost my mind in that moment, and I’m so ashamed of how I treated you. How I’ve treated you since you moved back. You don’t owe me anything, and you sure don’t owe me any part of your body. I’m ashamed I didn’t knock Beck out when I had the chance. I’m ashamed that I didn’t go to Chicago and help you. Even if you pushed me away and we hadn’t talked for almost a decade, I should have seen. Even if my wife had never died, I should have checked on you after I saw the bruise on your back at the reunion. I should have helped you. I’ve always loved you, and I want you safe.”

I move my face an inch up his jaw, and he cups my cheek. We sit nose-to-nose for a moment, our breathing heavy, until he moves his lips to mine.

And I let him. For the first time in over a decade, I kiss Aaron Dwyer.

His lips are familiar but also new. Stronger. More in control. I kissed this guy most of my high school existence, and I fall into the kiss like we didn’t miss a day. There was no Beck. There was no Cynthia, even though she was actually a good human who loved Aaron. There was no breakup in college that left me devastated and floundering enough to be easy prey for an abusive dickhead. It’s like we never parted. He still tastes the same, and he still moves his head at the same angle when he kisses. He still seeks with his tongue, never forcing. Only testing and tasting.

I wrap my arms around him, and my hand runs through his hair. It’s soft and comforting as I slide my fingers through it. His hands don’t roam my body, but they stay at my cheeks. This isn’t a kiss that’ll end in fucking. It’s not urgent or disrespectful. This is a kiss that saysI’m here now, and I’ll be here as long as you let me.

When we break apart, he inhales. “Baby, I need you to pack a bag and come with me.”

I scowl and pull away. Well, I move as far as you can pull away when you’re straddling a man in your entryway. “What? Why?”

“Another man was killed today. When we searched the house, I found your address on his kitchen counter. You need to pack a bag and come home with me. You’re not safe here.”

I shake my head, and my stomach roils with nerves. “That’s ridiculous. Why would my address be on his counter?” I think hard, but the nightmare from before and Aaron being here and kissing me…it all has my brain on overdrive and like I have too many tabs open. Was the guy planning on hurting me before he died?

“His name was Todd Daniels. Did you know him?”

I shake my head.

He pulls his phone out of his pants. “I have to show you another picture of a dead person. Are you ready?”

I look at the picture on the screen, not averting my eyes this time. The guy’s dead, and he can’t hurt me. This one isn’t so messy, and he’s not as decomposed. It’s the decomposition I can’t handle. “He’s one of the guys that threatened me with the other mafia thugs.”

That’s all of them except for Geoffrey from the gala. George Cannon and two of the men in my living room are dead. Relief floods through me as I realize Aaron is here, and Aaron will make sure Geoffrey doesn’t hurt me.

I rest my head on Aaron’s shoulder and then lift it immediately. “What about the girls? If someone is after me, you can’t have me at home with the girls.”

“The girls are at Cynthia’s mother’s house. They’ll stay there for a few days to make sure nobody is desperate to hurt you. It’ll give me a few days to sniff around. You need to pack a few bags, Lucy.”

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